


Peace and Pardons

by annaliesegrace



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-03-18 03:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13672881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaliesegrace/pseuds/annaliesegrace
Summary: Jaime has made it to Winterfell, but there are still people he needs to make peace with in order to fight by their side, Brienne included.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So...first Jaime/Brienne fic. Actually, first Game of Thrones fic altogether. Its REALLY hard to write and leave out modern language, I didnt realize until I sat down and had to avoid using slang. Hopefully I got it...mostly right.

The horn blowing (just the once) loudly from the front gates brought everyone in the Winterfell courtyard to a standstill. The clattering of swords and constant noise of a castle going about its daily rituals fell eerily silent.

Visitors were not expected.

And so Brienne’s hand instinctively went to the ever present sword at her side while she moved several steps closer to the Lady of Winterfell who had been talking to the blacksmith about armor. Glancing around, Brienne noticed several other guardsmen pull their swords as well and look toward the locked gates.

Sansa Stark, however, appeared unconcerned and simply glanced up to the watchman, almost as if she knew what he was going to say.

The man posted above the doors called down to her, “Single rider, my Lady.”

“How far out?” Sansa replied, still seemingly unsurprised. Meanwhile, Brienne was frowning.

“Less than a quarter hour, my lady.”

“And you’re sure he is alone?”

“Quite.”

Sansa considered that a moment before asking, “Can you identify him or his house?”

“No, my lady. Brown clothing, no sigil.”

Sansa nodded, almost to herself before calling out again, “Allow him entrance when he arrives.”

The watchman looked surprised and glanced back out at the man riding furiously toward Winterfell.

“Allow him entrance,” Sansa repeated, and the watchman nodded slowly.

“Yes, my lady,” he responded before turning back to monitor the mysterious riders progress.

“My Lady,” Brienne started, she had become close with the young girl, enough so that she felt comfortable questioning her. Not that a single rider concerned Brienne, she knew one man could do little damage once inside the walls, not with a dozen guards and watchmen within a dozen yards. “Are you expecting a visitor?”

Sansa’s blue eyes turned to her. “In a way, I suppose. Bran…shares only what he thinks we need to know, nothing more, sometimes less. Its…occasionally infuriating.”

Brienne had heard of the youngest Starks seeing abilities and for a long time did not quite believe. But now there were ghosts with other people’s faces, dragons and white walkers and a woman who brought Jon Snow back from the dead so who was she to question.

“And he spoke of this? A stranger at the gates?”

“In a manner of speaking. Though I do not believe it is a stranger on that horse.”

“Your brother…he didn’t-“

Sansa’s eyes moved toward the still closed gate. “He did not. Hence…the infuriating part.”

Suddenly the guardsman yelled down again and the gates were being opened, the rider’s head and most of their face was obscured by a cloak that had been brown but was now so snow covered it was all but white. And yet, something about the man felt familiar to Brienne. He pulled the horse into the courtyard and the archers immediately nocked their weapons, all pointed directly at him. No one was willing to risk the Lady of Winterfell.

Brienne pulled Oathkeeper half out of its scabbard and moved to stand fully in front of Sansa, placing herself squarely between the lady and the stranger.

Until the man pulled his hood off and Brienne’s breath caught in her throat.

Jaime Lannister.

Jaime Fucking Lannister.

There was a collective gasp and Brienne could sense the guards moving closer, hands on blades, but she did the opposite, placing Oathkeeper back in its place. What she did not do, however, was move from her spot between her Lady and the Kingslayer; her trust in the Lannister only went so far.

Jaime looked around a moment before slowly dismounting but standing still and silent next to the horse, eyes on Sansa; Brienne noted how he clearly telegraphed every move to those around him in an effort not to be killed. And purposely had not made eye contact with her.

Sansa silently raised her hand as a signal to stand down. Most of the guardsmen re-sheathed their weapons but the archers remained at the ready.

Jaime seemed to take that as tact approval to approach, so he did, closing the distance between himself and Brienne and Sansa. As he came to stand next to Brienne, directly in front of Sansa but still outside of reach, Jaime finally glanced over to her, his expression unreadable. Brienne’s frown did not fade, nor did her confusion. By now, Ser Davos had appeared from the towers as well, standing on the other side of Sansa, clearly concerned about the Lannister’s appearance, his hand firmly on his sword.

Once he was in earshot of Sansa, Jaime spoke lowly, “Lady Stark, we need to talk, immediately, privately.”

Sansa’s eyes narrowed with suspicion and Brienne’s hold on Oathkeeper tightened. “And why would I do that, Ser Jaime?”

“I have…news.” His voice was strained and Brienne could not discern his expression. Concern? Frustration? Fear?

“How do I know whatever news you have is true? Are you not loyal to your sister?”

And finally, Jaime’s eyes found Brienne’s, meeting her gaze for several seconds before turning back to Sansa and saying firmly, “Fuck loyalty. Loyalty and houses mean nothing if we are all dead.”

For a moment Sansa looked startled.

Jaime spoke again, “All right, fine, perhaps this will help guide you.” And then Jaime Lannister, the Queen’s brother, the _Kingslayer,_ fell to one knee in front of the Lady of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and spoke loudly, so all could hear him. “Lady Sansa Stark, I offer my services to you. I will shield your back, and keep your counsel, and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new.” Then, as almost an afterthought, “I know I’m supposed to place my sword at your feet but I didn’t feel much like an arrow to the back today.”

Brienne’s eyes widened as she stared at him while murmurs floated to her ears from those behind her:

_“Did he just-“_

_“Isnt that the Kingslayer..”_

_“What is he doing...”_

_“Must be up to something…”_

Sansa continued to be silent, clearly contemplating how to handle a Lannister swearing fealty to a Stark. First she turned to Davos, who shrugged equally unsure what to make of the turn of events before looking to Brienne, the only person in Winterfell to have spent significant time with the man in front of her.

“Lady Brienne, will you vouch for this man?”

Brienne looked to Jaime, whose face looked tired, older even and she knew in her heart this was no trick, that he had come north to help them, to keep his promise.

“I do, Lady Stark.”

Seemingly satisfied with Brienne’s response she replied, “And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear by the old Gods and the new. Arise.”

The murmurs grew louder, everyone in the courtyard shocked and awed by what they had just witnessed.

Sansa nodded. “Brienne, Ser Davos, with us please.” Then she turned and started back into the castle walls, Jaime following behind her with Brienne and Davos walking side by side behind him.

Davos seemed uneasy and glared at the back of Jaime’s head, his hand firmly on his sword, ready to cut down the Lannister at a moment’s notice. “You trust him? Truly? A Lannister?”

“This Lannister I do.”

“And I trust you, my Lady. But I think caution is still warranted.”

Brienne only nodded, she could not argue with him.

 

“Are you certain?” Brienne asked, the first to speak after Jaime had revealed his sister’s deception, his apparently defection from the south and intent to fight with them. Even Ser Davos now seemed to believe Jaime’s intention.

The group had found their way to a small counsel chamber, cups of ale in front of them all – Jaime the only one to drink his.

“Very. The _Queen_ ,” he all but spat out the word, “accused me of treason and threatened my life for leaving Kings Landing to fulfill my oath.”

Sansa had been quiet up to that moment. “It does not surprise me. Cersei does what she thinks will be advantageous for her and no more. If that means going back on her word, so be it.”

“You learned much from my sister in your time with her,” Jaime said and finished the little amount of liquid still in his cup.

“Not just your sister, Ser. There are many out there who behave as she does.”

Jaime smiled. “And at least one who met his end at your hand. You have turned into quite a force, my Lady.”

“Thank you, Ser.” Sansa said. “My brother and Daenerys return within a fortnight with the rest of the dragonglass they were able to mine. And as much as I believe in your intent and trust Brienne’s counsel that you mean us no harm, until then I am going to have to keep your weapons and a guard will be assigned to you at all times. If you raise so much as a hand toward a northerner you will be placed in the cells until this war is over.”

“Understood. Might I ask one favor?” At Sana’s nod he continued, “A good meal would be most appreciated.”

“Of course,” Sansa said. “Stay here, I will have a cook bring you something. For now, Brienne will guard you and I will find suitable accommodations. Also, I will allow you to move about Winterfell but Brienne must always be present and the armory and stables are strictly off limits.”

“Thank you, Lady Stark, that is more than generous but I assure you I am here only to help.”

Sansa merely nodded and she and Davos stood, leaving Jaime and Brienne alone for the first time since she’d shown up in his tent in Riverrun.

There was silence between them for a long while as they stared at each other, unsure what to say.

Finally Jaime broke the quiet. “Your hair is longer.”

Self-consciously Brienne touched the locks that now came down to her chin, pushing them behind her ear and frowning slightly. “There has not been much time to have it cut and Lady Sansa…she has shown me how to braid it back so it is not bothersome.” Brienne would grudgingly admit that occasionally she did not mind wearing it down, in fact, she almost enjoyed it. Today happen to be one of those days.

“It looks nice,” he commented.

Brienne managed a nod and then dropped her eyes to her still full mug. “Thank you. Jaime…I’m sorry about your sister.”

He made a face. “Sorry she threatened to kill me? Sorry she accused me of treason? Or sorry she lied?”

Brienne’s face fell and he immediately felt guilty for his harsh tone. “I’m sorry your sister betrayed you.”

“She betrayed us all,” he said bitterly.

“Yes, but she is _your_ sister…”

“My sister who threatened to set the Mountain on me,” he said bitterly and reached across the table, gently grabbing her wrist with his left hand. “Brienne…”

She looked almost alarmed at his touch and tried to pull away but his grip only became firmer. “Don’t,” he whispered.

It was that moment a kitchen girl showed up with a large bowl full of stew, a generous piece of bread and another mug of ale, forcing Jaime to relinquish his hold with a frown, he wasn’t sure what he intended to say but the moment was gone. And now the smell of the stew was enticing him, there was no way he was waiting to eat, it had been at least a full day since his last meal.

Brienne watched as he ate the food with impressive speed, travelling alone she didn’t imagine he’d had a real meal in weeks.

“It’s fucking cold up here,” he muttered in between bites.

Brienne restrained a smile. “It is _The North_. And winter is certainly here. You get used to it.”

“Really?” he asked and popped the last bite of bread into his mouth, chewing slowly.

“No, not really. I may have never been this far north for a winter but this feels different then winter’s before. The cold seems to touch your soul.” With that she visibly shuddered and flexed her hands as if to get warmth into them.

Jaime nodded, he had sensed it as well as he moved toward Winterfell, it wasn’t just cold, it was...something far more sinister. But maybe it was just because they knew what was beyond the wall, coming for them. His eyes wandered around the small space for a moment, taking in the direwolf banner directly above the roaring fire.

“The fire doesn’t seem to help either,” Brienne added almost absently, her eyes were on him but unfocused, staring at something he couldn’t see.

Jaime’s hand came across the table again, slower than before and his fingertips tapped the back of her hand, pulling her focus back to him. As her eyes met his he smiled slightly, and he knew what to say.

“It is nice to see you again, Lady Brienne. Dare say I’ve missed you.”

Brienne stared at his fingers, which had remained on the back of her hand. She swallowed and lifted her eyes to his, ready to respond when another slight girl appeared in the doorway. Jaime cursed internally, could they get no peace to speak in this place?

The girl spoke quietly. “Ser Jaime, your room is ready, Lady Stark thought you might like to rest. I can take you now if you’re done.”

They nodded and rose, following the girl through the dark, winding corridors of Winterfell only made darker by the setting sun. Halfway there Jaime muttered, “I will never find this again, everything looks the same.”

Once they approached the open doorway the girl nodded and disappeared back the way they had come.

Jaime stuck one head in the door, took in the small but comfortable room with an equally small fire and clean garments on the bed before turning to Brienne and commenting, “Far better accommodations then the last time I was a guest of the Starks.” That’s when he noticed the odd look on her face and blush starting and he tilted his head. “And, where might your room be, my Lady?”

Brienne frowned at him. “I don’t think its appropriate-“

He ignored her, looking down the hall. “Where now?”

If it was possible she frowned further and took a small step back, pointing to the closed door across and maybe 5 feet down the hall from his.

Jaime barked out a laugh. “I was not aware Sansa Stark had a sense of humor.”

“There are limited accommodations these days; it was probably one of the only rooms available. And the close proximity makes you far easier to keep an eye on.”

Jaime shrugged, “I guess I should be grateful I wasn’t put in a tent outside.”

Brienne nodded agreement with his assessment. “Get some rest,” she said, “I will be outside the door for now if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “For vouching for me with Sansa, you probably saved my head.”

“I believe you are here for good reasons, Ser Jaime. Now…rest.”

Jaime nodded and closed the door quietly.

Missed during his first glance at the room was a small washbasin and cloth; at least now he could wash himself before putting on the clean clothes.

Slowly Jaime peeled off the dirt and sweat soaked clothes he was wearing, placing them on the floor near the door, maybe he could find a washbasin tomorrow for those and then proceeded to wash every inch of skin, watching as the clear water in the basin turned nearly black.

Eventually satisfied, he redressed in the clean clothes and climbed into the bed, covering himself with the furs. It felt strange being in Winterfell again when the last time he had been here had been…disastrous was the only word that came to mind. Bran Stark was at Winterfell so it was given at some point Jaime would be forced to face the boy and pay for his sin. It was apparent Sansa and Brienne had no idea it was him who had injured Bran, otherwise there would have been far more anger at his presence. Facing Bran did not scare Jaime, there was a certain relief in finally talking to the boy, instead his concern was Brienne’s reaction. Noble Brienne who trusted him, who believed he had honor, who he cared about more than he ever expected to. If she cut him out of her life, he wasn’t sure what the point to this trip north would be.

Sighing, Jaime fell into a deep sleep hoping, praying, even that she would not hate him.

 

Just as the sun started to break through the ever-increasing cloud cover, Jaime woke, slightly confused and unsure where he was. Lifting his head and glancing around his small room brought it back and Jaime sighed, flopping back onto the reasonably comfortable pallet.

He honestly wasn’t sure what to do with himself, at Kings Landing he had a daily routine, something to keep him moving. Here he wasn’t sure but certainly Sansa could find something useful for him to do until Jon returned - or the walkers found them. Jaime had seen training going on in the adjacent courtyard when he arrived, maybe he could be of help, even missing a hand he could teach.

Jaime got up and redressed in his non-descript armor, his golden hand going to rest on the pommel of his sword but falling limply at his side instead.

Suddenly his relinquishing of Widow’s Wail seemed foolish, but at the time he’d been more concerned with making sure Sansa would listen to him and not just toss him in the cells simply for being a Lannister in the wolfs den.

As he contemplated how to get Brienne to speak to Sansa on his behalf there was a knock on his door.

“Enter,” he said and the door opened to Brienne, also fully dressed in her Lannister-made armor, hair braided tightly back, Oathkeeper at her hip. His eyes lingered on the twin to his own sword.

“Are you ready to break fast?” she asked as her eyes followed his to her side. “I will speak to Lady Sansa about getting your sword back to you, I know you would not cause us harm but she is…understandably hesitant.”

Jaime smiled at her, of course his Brienne had already realized how being parted from Widow’s Wail would bother him. “I understand her sentiment. Barely a fortnight ago I was on the other side.”

Something about that made Brienne hesitate. “You could have ran anywhere from your sister, you did not have to come to Winterfell. Why here? One man is certainly not enough to change the tide of war.”

“You know, I am a brilliant military tactician even if my fighting skills need work,” he said, almost offended. “Those...things will not care about houses or sigils, no one will be safe in all of Westeros if they breach the wall.” Brienne seemed satisfied with that answer and nodded but he continued. “I also came because of you.”

Those blue eyes of hers widened almost comically. “What?”

“Have you lost your grasp on the common tongue, wench?” Jaime immediately regretted the sarcasm when her face turned stony and he softened. “Brienne…when I made the decision to leave Kings Landing and head north, with nothing signifying my house, it was because of honor. Honor _you_ helped me restore. I made an oath to help the north, I could not go back on that. But as the miles passed and the closer I came to Winterfell I realized my oath and honor were not the only reason I had made the decision. It was also for you. The thought of seeing you once again.” He paused and took a step toward her. “I could not bear the thought that you would be fighting for your life here while I fled to Pentos or Volantis. The thought that you could die up here and the dragonpit would be the final time I would have seen you, that our last words were in anger, weighed on me the longer I rode. We seemed destined to do nothing but say goodbye to each other and I did not want that moment to be our last. There will be no more goodbyes for us, Brienne of Tarth.”

“Ser Jaime…” Brienne’s heart clenched a little at the words, rendering her speechless.

Jaime let out a derisive laugh. “Pretty sure Cersei has stripped my knighthood from me by now, so you can drop the Ser.”

“I care not what Cersei does, you are a knight, in every way important.”

Jaime smiled. “Thank you.”

“And…I missed you as well.”

Jaime’s eyes widened at her confession. And then his stomach grumbled, loudly.

Brienne bit back a smile and lead him out of the room.

Jaime looked around the empty corridor. “Did you guard my door all night?”

“Certainly not. Evenings will be rotated between several guards. During the day you remain with me.”

While spending the days with Brienne was not exactly a hardship, Jaime longed to not be watched every second and to be trusted.

Silently he followed her back through the maze of corridors but as they entered the dining hall he muttered, “Seriously how does no one get lost in this maze of sameness?”

Brienne chose not to respond.

If anyone in the large room recognized him, they didn’t acknowledge it, most kept their heads down and ate quickly before heading out again to train or prepare the castle. Jaime looked out a window, snow continued to fall at a brisk pace, covering the courtyard and ramparts and anyone who deigned to go out.

Brienne led them to the end of a long table, and they sat across from each other. Within a minute, bowls of porridge were placed in front of them along with mugs of ale.

Silently they dug into their meals, it wasn’t the food he was used to, but with the company the bland porridge tasted far better than it should have. And by the time he spooned the last bit into his mouth, Jaime felt full and ready. To do what he still didn’t know.

“So,” he started. “What does one do to prepare for a war against the dead?”

Brienne looked at him almost amused before a messenger appeared next to them, looking apprehensively at Jaime.

“Ser Jaime?” the young boy asked almost nervously, his eyes flickering between the knight and Brienne.

“You’ve found the right man,” he responded with a smile.

“Lord Bran would like me to take you to him.”

The smile fell from his face. While in the back of his head Jaime knew it was only inevitable Bran Stark would want to see him, he had not expected the day after his arrival.

And yet…he was ready.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Up first...Bran Stark!

Every step toward Bran Stark felt like another nail in his coffin, and Brienne’s constant, curious glances at him as they walked were not helping. Neither were her questions which he refused to answer, only shaking his head with every variant of, “Why would Bran want to see you?” she asked.

Somehow, he’d hoped for at least a few days with her before facing the young man but no, the Gods clearly all had it out for him. And yet, he had no one to blame but himself for this. He’d tried so hard to be better, to fulfill his oaths. There was relief as well though, that finally he would face justice for what he’d done.

Far too soon they came to a door and the squire opened it, announcing their arrival. “Ser Jaime Lannister and Lady Brienne, Lord Stark.”

Brandon Stark was sitting up in bed, surrounded by furs and parchment, if not for the loss of the use of his legs, the boy looked rather well.

“You may leave, Jensen,” Bran said and the boy disappeared.

Brienne whispered to Jaime, “I’ll be in the hall.”

“I’d like you to stay, Lady Brienne,” Bran said calmly and, alarmed, Jaime met the young boys eyes but instead of cruelty or revenge, instead there was comfort. As if the young Stark was trying to assure him that all would be well.

Jaime seriously doubted that.

“All right,” Brienne responded while closing the door, standing directly in front of it and behind Jaime.

“Ser Jaime, I am sure you know why I’ve brought you here.”

“Of course I do. There is nothing I can say-“

“You’re right, there is nothing to say, you are forgiven.”

Jaime could have sworn his heart stopped beating in his chest. “Sorry - forgiven?”

“You know what I have become?” Bran asked smoothly.

“Word that you were now a seer came to Kings Landing, yes.”

“Oh, I’m so much more than that, Jaime Lannister. I am the three-eyed raven. When you pushed me from that tower window,” Brienne gasped but made no other sound, “you started me down a path that was already set in stone. You could no more have _not_ done it than breathe.”

“It was still unforgivable, you were a child…” Jaime countered, completely thrown by what was happening. He had expected to beg for his life, beg to not be thrown in the cells, beg forgiveness for an unforgivable act. Beg Brienne not to hate him. Not beg for punishment.

Bran seemed unimpressed and continued in that calm, smooth voice of his, “And if I had told, Ser Jaime? If I had climbed down that tower and told my mother or father that I’d seen the Kingslayer and his sister...lying together.”

“Cersei and my children would have been killed. Immediately, Ned Stark would have taken care of that on Roberts’s word. I’d have considered myself lucky to be killed alongside them.”

“You likely would have been. You were protecting your family, Ser Jaime. The only way you knew how.”

Tears sprung to Jaime’s eyes and he whispered, “I am so sorry. It was wrong but I could see no other way.” The temptation to add that Cersei had demanded he do something was great but he was here to repent and that’s what he would do.

“It was Joffery who sent the man to kill me, you know?”

“I…suspected, yes. But not until after the attack.”

“I know.”

“What will you do with me?” Jaime finally asked.

“You are forgiven Ser Jaime, my siblings do not need to know what happened. It is between you and I. My only request is that you fight for Winterfell, fight with the Starks, fight for the _living_ when winter truly comes. And if we win, to stay on the side of the Starks.”

Jaime got down on one knee and said, “I swear my life on it. Thank you, Lord Stark.”

Bran nodded and Jaime took that as his dismissal, but when he stood and turned, Brienne was staring at him with a stony expression.

“Bri-“ he started but she opened the door and stepped out without a word.

“She needs some time, Ser Jaime. But she will come around.”

“Did you see that in a vision?” Jaime asked, frustrated.

Bran ignored the tone. “I cannot see the future, Ser Jaime. But I can see all that has already happened and you are right: You can’t help who you love. Neither can she.”

Jaime turned back toward the young man, surprised. It was one thing to hear what Bran had become, it was another to have your own words parroted back to you by a person who had not even been there. Nodding he followed Brienne out the door, closing it behind him.

He found her standing in the hall, staring out a small window; if her furrowed brow was any indication she was at mental war with herself.

“Brienne-“

“Not now, Ser Jaime.”

Without thinking he grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. “Please, just…let me say one thing. The man who pushed Bran out that window does not exist anymore; that man was craven, disgusting, without honor. It’s true that my children and Cersei would have been killed, horribly so, but…now, now I don’t think I could do it again. Because I’m a different man, Brienne. A better man. And do you know why?”

She was staring at him, eyes wide and she shook her head.

“You, you ridiculous woman. You showed me what honor was really, truly supposed to look like. Helped me to restore what little I could of mine. I owe you…everything for that and I can’t bear the thought that you would hate me for what someone I don’t even know anymore did.” Jaime could see tears starting to form in her blue eyes.

“What do you care about what I think? Since when does Jaime Lannister care what anybody thinks of him?”

“I _don’t_ care what _anybody_ thinks of me! I care what you think of me, you are the only person in this world I give a damn about.”

Now some of the tears she had been trying to hold back fell down her cheeks, Jaime had to resist the urge to reach up and wipe them away.

“Time…” she pushed out while standing straighter. “I need some time to think, Jaime.”

Jaime nodded, heartened at least a little that she had not left him standing in the hallway. Not that she could, Brienne had been tasked with guarding him and she would do it even if she hated him.

“Thank you.”

Brienne tilted her head. “For what?”

“Not walking away from me. For…everything. If you want to be rid of me, I’ll go back to my room, you can get someone else to babysit.”

Her eyes bored into his. “That…might be wise.”

In silence they moved back through Winterfell, at one point Brienne whispered to a guard who disappeared. By the time they got to his chambers there was already another guard stationed.

“I will have someone bring meals and will come by later to check on you.” She looked…despondent.

All he could do was nod and slowly close his door.

 

 

Brienne walked slowly through the grounds, her mind reeling with Bran’s revelation. It was, indeed, hard for her to reconcile the Jaime that pushed the young Stark from a window and the man she knew now. Jaime had honor, she had seen it herself so very many times. From saving her virtue, through his every effort to assist her in finding Sansa to his very appearance, alone, at Winterfell.

He had taken a great risk showing up in the one place where nearly every person hated him, where he could have easily, and quickly, been sentenced to be executed.

Part of her even recognized how difficult it must have been for him to leave Cersei, while Brienne didn’t pretend to understand their immoral relationship, she knew they were closer than two people could possibly be. They had shared children, a life, a bed, love.

Brienne came to a stop in the training courtyard to find Pod teaching a child of no more than 7 years how to properly hold a sword. A small smile came to her face, if it hadn’t been for Jaime, Pod would likely be dead as well.

Did the lives he’d saved outweigh the one he’d tried to take?

Half a million people in Kings Landing would have been slaughtered by their king. Jaime Lannister had honor long before he met Brienne, he’d just…lost it along the way somehow. His sister, perhaps? Had his twin twisted his mind so much that he’d forgotten how to be honorable? Had she convinced him that what he was doing _was_ honorable? Or at least for the greater good? That would not have surprised Brienne in the least. What she knew of Cersei Lannister was that of a master manipulator, her recent deception proof of that.

So lost in thought, she missed Pod approaching until he touched her shoulder. “My lady?”

Brienne spun on him, her hand at her sword before she could realize who it was. Pod jumped back, startled.

“Sorry Pod, I was…thinking.”

“Of course, my Lady. Are you all right?”

“Quite, Pod.” Then she realized what would truly take her mind off Jaime Lannister and she smiled ever so slightly. “Care to do some training, Pod?”

“Now, my lady?”

“Now, Pod.”

The squire nodded and they both grabbed training swords, immediately getting into the proper stance.

“Do you remember where we were?”

Pod nodded and they began.

 

For nearly an hour, Brienne laid waste to Pod, constantly knocking him to the ground with a grin, never letting up or giving an inch. The young man was much better then he’d been when they had started these lessons, but she was still the far superior fighter.

And as they fought her mind cleared, thoughts of Jaime Lannister were pushed aside in favor of reading her opponent and reacting.

Eventually Pod paused, letting his sword fall to the ground. “My lady, I think that’s enough for the day.”

And then Brienne realized that while she had pushed thoughts of Jaime from her mind, she’d taken her frustration out on the squire and guilt flooded her. “I’m sorry Pod, you are quite right.”

Pod frowned at her. “Are you all right, my Lady?”

Brienne smiled softly at him. “I think I will be Pod, thank you.”

The rest of her day went by in a blur, the first shipment of Dragonstone had arrived ahead of the King and Daenerys and she’d assisted with sorting and organizing the pieces before they would be forged into weapons.

Twice she’d confirmed Jaime was still securely in his chambers but never entered.

By sundown, Brienne realized she could avoid him no longer and approached his chambers, telling the guard he was excused until the next shift showed up.She knocked on the door, which was quickly followed by a “come in”.

Silently she entered to find Jaime lying on his bed, a book in hand, but his eyes had risen to meet hers, they looked…hopeful.

“Jaime…” she started and paused. Jaime sat up on the bed and moved to one side, leaving room for her to sit if she so chose. Brienne eyed the spot almost warily but then moved and sat next to him, he remained silent as she stared at the wall in front of her, gathering her thoughts. “You have honor, you have saved more lives then taken and since the day our paths crossed, I’ve seen you make the right, honorable decisions. I cannot hold against you what Bran Stark will not. You are here, willing to fight with us. That is enough for me to know what kind of a man you are.”

Jaime let out a long sigh of relief and dropped the book he’d been holding back to the bed. “Thank you, Brienne.”

For a moment they sat in silence, both staring at the wall, both trying to ignore the feel of the other person next to them. Then his hand slipped over her arm that had been resting on her thigh and started to twine his fingers with hers, though for just a second she stiffened before relaxing into the touch and allowing him to hold her hand tightly.

“Did you mean it?” she asked suddenly and at Jaime’s confused look continued in a quieter tone, “About caring…giving a damn? For me.”

“How can you think I didn’t…of course I do, Brienne.”

“What of Tyrion? He is your brother, clearly you give a damn about him.”

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. “Well, certainly I give a damn about him. But for…different reasons.”

“What…what reasons?” she asked shyly.

The ghost of a smile turned into a full one and Jaime slowly brought their still joined hands to his lips so he could kiss the back of her hand while keeping his eyes trained on hers. “Lets just say I wouldn’t do that to Tyrion.”

“Oh…” she replied quietly.

“Brienne?” he questioned, he could sense her unease even as their hands dropped back to her lap.

“I should go, let you rest,” she said suddenly and stood, breaking their contact.

Jaime watched as she moved quickly to the door, nodding to him before opening it, confirming the new guard was on duty and slipping into the hall.

_Had he scared her?_ Jaime wondered as he got ready for bed, pulling off his shirt and climbing under the furs, curling into a ball against the ever present cold. That had been the last thing he wanted to do…scare her. He had not been lying, aside from his brother, Brienne was the only person he cared about in the world. The only person he cared if they saw the light of day after this was all over. He could die himself, he would…happily, if it meant her survival.

Jaime sighed.

 

Brienne opened the door to her chamber with shaking hands. What had just happened? What had she just done? Jaime had been sincere in his words, she was sure of that, but doubts had crept into her mind the second his lips made contact with her skin. Doubts and an unfamiliar warm feeling that had spread from her hand through her entire body. The feeling had frightened her, never had she experienced anything like that. Even the short kisses she had shared with boys in her youth, before they realized how ugly she was, had not left a tingling sensation in their wake.

And he had only kissed her hand.

The doubts were what frustrated her, she _trusted_ Jaime, with her life. But at the slightest show of affection toward her she panicked, part of her convinced he would turn on her, that it would be a jape at her expense, that she was used to, that she understood.

Irritated at herself, Brienne stripped off her clothes with more force than was strictly necessary, tossing them in the corner - after the fight with Pod they would certainly need a wash tomorrow - and pulled on a pair of lightweight pants and nightshirt. Curling under the furs, she held the hand Jaime had just kissed close to her heart and let her eyes drift closed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks for the kudos and comments on chapter 1, its always a little intimidating to enter a new fandom. But you guys are lovely, thank you! Clearly there will be a confrontation with Dany coming up but first I think a little air-clearing between JB and then the northern lords will need to be calmed, there is a Lion in the midst. And...Tormund maybe? I mean, his status is unclear at the end...and could he make it to winterfell well ahead of the NK? I dont knoooow, how long it takes to move from place to place is unclear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Northern Lords are not pleased, but hey...its war.

The next morning when Jaime opened his door he was somewhat surprised to see not Brienne, but one of his guards. Frowning he looked down the hall to her room – the door was firmly closed – and started to head that way but the guard spoke, stopping him.

“Lady Brienne is not in her chambers, she left before dawn. I’ve been instructed to take you to break fast.”

Trying to school his disappointment, Jaime walked back past the guard and started toward the dining hall, only to take a wrong turn and have the guard sigh at him loudly.

“Well, you lead then,” he said rather testily, then, “I have no bloody idea where I’m going in this place.”

The guard nodded and walked ahead of him, but kept turning his head to make sure Jaime was still behind him. The walls in this part of the castle were narrow enough that two people could barely walk next to each other.

“Any idea where Lady Brienne is?” Jaime finally asked as they approached the hall.

“No.” Was the succinct response.

_Charming._

Jaime sat in the same spot they had yesterday morning and again, a bowl of food was placed in front of him. This morning, however, he noticed that the hall noise had quieted significantly when he’d entered.

With his head down, Jaime ignored the stares from others and ate quietly. But halfway through the chatter started to get louder and clearly be directed at him.

_“Sister fucker”_

_“Kingslayer”_

_“Whats he here for? Spying for the crown? Fuck him”_

_“Who cares if he kneeled to Lady Sansa? The Lannisters don’t have honor, it’s a lie.”_

The last one hurt more than he would have expected and Jaime quickly shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth and drank his ale to wash it down. His guard had stood quietly next to the table, a passive expression on his face.

“Ok, back to my chambers?” he sighed at the guard before noticing Brienne striding toward him from his right.

“Thank you, Gillroy, I’ve got him now.”

“Of course, my Lady,” the guard said and disappeared back the way they had come.

Brienne led him out of the hall, toward the courtyards, the snow was coming down even harder today than yesterday, covering Winterfell in white, the castle was quite beautiful with the glittering snow on every surface.

“Good timing,” he said as they walked, with a quick glance back.  “I think the crowd was getting hostile toward me.”

“I can’t imagine why,” she said but with a touch of amusement.

Jaime looked at her, it didn’t appear what had happened the previous night was bothering her in the least, which he didn’t expect given how quickly she had left his chambers. He’d thought she might be embarrassed around him, unsure even…but no, it was as if nothing occurred. It perplexed him, yet another layer of the Lady of Tarth.

“So, where were you this morning? I had to deal with…Gillroy, the boring.”

She shot him a reproachful look and he shrugged in non-apology.

“I was talking with Lady Sansa, we may have a problem.”

“Let me guess, some of your lords caught wind yesterday of a lion in their midst and are not pleased.” Jaime may not be the smartest Lannister but he could read a room and draw conclusions, the hostility that morning had to come from somewhere.

“I believe they called for your head,” she said dryly, like it wasn’t his execution they were talking about.

“And Sansa?”

“ _Lady_ Sansa has called a meeting of the lords as soon as the hall clears, you are to attend.”

Jaime stopped walking; Brienne took several more steps before realizing and stopped as well.

“What? Why?” he asked.

“Because they are discussing you, Jaime. As such, you should be there.”

“Standing in front of a bunch of northern lords, most of whom hate me does not sound wise.”

“Do you want to remain here or not?” she asked slightly annoyed.

“Of course.”

_More than anything._

“Then fight for it.”

Jaime gave her a crooked smile and nodded.

For a long moment they stared at each other. Brienne didn’t think for a minute that Lady Sansa would allow Jaime to be executed, though she wasn’t convinced he would not be thrown in the cells. The North Remembers.

“Will you be there?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied quietly then added, “Who else would vouch for you?”

“Tyrion maybe?” Jaime laughed. “Where is he when I need him the most?”

“White Harbor,” Brienne tossed out, not realizing that Jaime had no idea where his brother was.

“He’s close,” Jaime whispered, and his heart clenched just a little; oh, how he’d missed his baby brother.

“Very, its about a week from White Harbor to here, but given the size of their group it could likely take longer. Lady Sansa received a raven from her brother last night.”

In the back of his mind, Jaime knew that the arrival of Jon Snow and Daenerys could be a problem for him. He’d killed her father in what could be considered cold blood and rather than speak up to defend himself he’d accepted the mark of “Kingslayer” and occasionally reveled in it when it suited the situation. The reality was he despised the moniker, while yes, he had killed his king, it was to save the whole of Kings Landing and no one knew save Tyrion and Brienne.

Coming north had been the right thing to do, he knew that but only now was he realizing how many people might not appreciate his effort and hold a grudge. It was far more than he had considered on the ride north. He frowned.

First the problem at hand - Northern Lords who wanted his head.

“All right then. Off to this meeting,” he said more confidently then he felt. Brienne’s expression told him she didn’t quite believe his confidence either.

Once the hall emptied of those breaking fast, they waited outside the hall as the lords of the north filed in, most giving Jaime nasty looks as they walked past.

Eventually, Arya came out and nodded toward the doors, she was there to escort Jaime. The small girl looked fierce, very Brienne-like with a stony expression and a sword at her hip. Specifically, her right hip, the girl was left handed. Jaime filed that away for later. Assuming he had a later.

Arya walked them to the back of the room where at a long table in front of the large fire sat Sansa and Bran; lords lined either side of the room, their expressions varying between flat and angry. Some feet from the table Arya stopped them before splitting off, going to sit on the other side of Sansa and Brienne gave him a small smile before walking to stand at the end of the line of lords, closest to the table.

He was alone, standing in the middle of a mostly hostile room, the was some murmuring going on, but that came to a stop when Sansa rose her hand.

Then she spoke, “Ser Jaime, the lords of the North have concerns about your arrival at Winterfell and your intentions here, they feel you may be spying for the crown. Would you care to address these concerns?”

Jaime’s eyes moved around the room before returning to Sansa. “I’m not sure what I can say to convince the lords that my intentions are good, that I am here to fight with you other than the fact I am here. I arrived with news that the Queen had betrayed the north and would not be sending her army. I arrived alone, with no one at my back, no army and bent the knee to Lady Sansa. I have no way of contacting anyone in Kings Landing. You have my only weapon and I’ve been guarded since my arrival and will continue to be until you decide otherwise, my Lady.”

“You expect us to believe that you’ve suddenly changed allegiances?” A voice yelled from the back of the hall.

Jaime glanced at Brienne and turned toward the crowd more. “Seeing one of those…things in person does tend to change one’s mind rather quickly. This isn’t about houses or who you are loyal to…it’s about _living_. If the north fails, we are all doomed.”

“How do we know you won’t send messages south, exposing us?” Another voice asked, this time closer.

“Are you serious?” Jaime asked, a little annoyed then caught Sansa’s stern expression and tried again. “And tell her what? Cersei already knows the north will be occupied for the near future fighting the dead. There really isn’t much for her to know that she doesn’t already. And while we fight the walkers, she will take back the lands we ignore.”

There was more muttering, and Jaime turned fully from the Starks to face the Lords. “I understand your reluctance. My family has done…terrible things to many of your families, the Starks more than anyone. What happened at The Twins was…inexcusable, a perversion of guest’s rights, and to be clear I had nothing to do with it and mostly certainly would not have abided by it, Lady Catelyn and Lord Stark did not deserve what happened to them. But right now I think we can all agree there are bigger concerns to worry about or there wont be _any_ families left to care. I am here to help, I know I am only one man but I will fight until I cant anymore for the North. For the Starks. For us ALL.”

Brienne held back a small smile, she could feel the room turning in Jaime’s favor.

“If, at the end of all this, you still want to throw me in a cell, I will go happily. At least I will still be alive. And we will have won.” Despite the sureness of his words, Jaime really hoped it didn’t come to that. The idea of winning and not spending what time he had left with Brienne made his heart ache.

Some Lords seemed to have softened at Jaime’s words, but there were a fair number who still appeared angry at his very presence.

Now Sansa spoke up. “Long ago, Ser Jaime made a promise to my mother, to return my sister and I to her. My mother died before that could happen and still, when he could not, he tasked Brienne of Tarth with locating me, providing her the armor and a sword to do so. If it were not for the Lannister before you, it’s likely I would not be here, neither would Lady Brienne, or Podrick.”

“I may not be able to fight as I once did,” Jaime said slowly, almost sadly. “But I can train and plan and yes, fight to the death.”

Sansa nodded at him. “Are there any other objections to Ser Jaime’s presence here in Winterfell?”

The room was silent.

“Winter is here, we have no time for squabbling amongst us. Ser Jaime, you shall fear no retribution for what you may have done in the past. Lords, please inform your men,” Sansa said firmly. “We are done for the day.”

Once the lords had disappeared out of the room, Brienne approached Jaime and spoke lowly to him. “Wait for me at the door, I need to speak with Lady Sansa.”

Jaime just nodded curiously and moved toward the door, standing and staring out into the courtyard watching as everyone moved with purpose, preparing for the long night. He glanced back at Brienne who was speaking to the Stark siblings. All three were nodding though Arya was looking at him as she did.

“Ser Jaime?” The voice was familiar, and Jaime turned to see Podrick Payne staring at him with a half grin.

“Pod!” he all but cried and clapped the squire on the back. “How are you?”

“Very well, Ser. I am pleased to see you here, though I hear it is without the southern armies.”

“That is true, Pod. Cersei…well, she is Cersei. She does little that does not benefit her.” Pod had nothing to say to that, so Jaime continued, “Winterfell treating you well?”

“As to be expected.”

Jaime’s eyes glanced back to Brienne, who was still engaged with the siblings. “I hear Brienne has been teaching you to fight?”

“Yes, Ser. Twice a day.”

“Have you beat her?”

“Not even close.”

Jaime laughed and saw Brienne walking back their way, a small smile playing at her lips.

“Ser Jaime, Pod,” she greeted. “Follow me, please.”

Jaime eyed her but followed along with Pod silently as Brienne walked through the courtyard and down stone stairs to a long, wide room that he thought may be near the crypts, the edges of the room were filled with what Jaime assumed to be Dragon glass, it was reflecting the light of the torches on the wall making the already dark space seem somehow ominous. There also seemed to be several weapons on wooden tables. Jaime paused long enough to step over to one, a spear, but the end instead of being rock or metal was a dagger of dragon glass.

He picked up the spear and weighted it in his hand; no heaver then the standard one.

Brienne clearing her throat pulled Jaime’s attention to her; she was standing at the end of the long hall in front of a large ornate cabinet, Pod to her side, Jaime moved to join her. Once he was within reach, Brienne opened one of the doors of the cabinet, reached in, and pulled out Widow’s Wail, still in its scabbard. She took a moment to look at the sword before turning back to him and holding it out.

It was reminiscent of when she tried to return Oathkeeper. Only this time, he accepted the sword from her, smiling as he held the weapon aloft.

“You convinced her,” he said in awe.

“Actually, I believe it was Bran who did so,” Brienne replied as she closed the cabinet door.

“Bran?” Jaime asked and awkwardly managed to get the belt around his waist, using his golden hand to hold it and his left to tighten and secure, it was a practiced movement. “That I did not expect.”

“Neither did Lady Sansa or Arya, if their reactions were any indication.”

As his golden hand rested back on the hilt of the sword, Jaime’s felt as if a piece of him had been returned. His eyes looked upon the obsidian that lined the room and then back to his right hand before saying, offhand, “If only they made hands of dragon glass. Then I might be more useful.”

Brienne’s eyes snapped to Pod’s as Jaime looked down a little sadly at his hand and silently communicated with the squire who nodded in understanding.

“Have to catch up with Lady Arya, helping train the youngins,” Pod said and quickly disappeared down the hall and back up the stairs, footsteps echoing through the room.

Slowly Jaime and Brienne followed Pod’s path.

“Is there anything else I should know, Ser Jaime?” Brienne asked suddenly and it was clear to him it had been weighing on her: The idea that Jaime hid more secrets from her that could be exposed as Bran’s had.

 _Cersei is pregnant,_ came to him, unbidden. Somehow he’d pushed the knowledge to the back of his mind, avoiding the fact his sister was with child. It was easier to leave that way.

“Jaime?” Brienne asked again, but more softly.

He couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Cersei is pregnant.”

If it bothered Brienne she didn’t show it. “You’re certain?”

“Fairly.”

Brienne nodded and opened her mouth before closing it again.

“Spit it out wench,” he sighed.

“Is it yours?”

Jaime barked out a bitter laugh. “Now that is a legitimate question. It could be Euron Greyjoy’s for all I know.”

“Greyjoy?” Brienne asked, distain dripping with each syllable of the man’s name. “That unpleasant man?”

“Unpleasant is a polite way of describing that cunt.”

Her eyes widened in surprise at the word choice, it was not one he favored but in Greyjoy’s case it was well earned.

“It does not matter whose it is in the end. There will be no life for it or anyone if we fail and besides, I have no intention of returning to Kings Landing. Not never. It is very doubtful I would even be welcome.”

Their steps, much like Pod’s, echoed through the chamber as they climbed the stairs. Brienne was quiet.

“Would you like to train?” she asked as they came to the top of the stairs and walked back through the courtyard.

“With you? Any time.” Jaime’s smile was wide, fingers twitching in anticipation.

“Good,” she replied in that flat tone of hers that gave nothing away and led him toward the practice swords, which were under a small covered pavilion, partially hidden.

Jaime was taken aback. “Now?”

“Did you have something else to do?” she responded tartly while holding a practice sword in her hand, testing the weight before putting it down and picking up another. Jaime watched this with fascination as the second seemed to satisfy whatever criteria she had and she swung it around a couple times while nodding. “Are you going to get one or not?”

Quickly Jaime selected a sword, swinging it, though not nearly as smoothly as she just had, following her into the small courtyard.

“When was the last time you used a sword? Even in training?” she asked as they circled each other in the yard.

“Oh, a while. Hadn’t really come up.”

She frowned. “You need practice to stay sharp, Jaime.”

“I know that, Brienne.”

Brienne shot him a look that said she was clearly disappointed in his lack of training.

For nearly a minute they circled each other, looking for an opening, a slip, anything to take advantage of. They were both such skilled fighters however, it took a while before Brienne suddenly lunged at him.

He blocked, but only just barely, pushing her sword to the side and returning the favor toward her right side. Gods, she was fast, her sword swung back around before he could make contact, blocking. They parried back and forth for several minutes, swords clashing, until Brienne knocked him to the ground with a firm kick to the hip.

Jaime looked up at her with surprise before standing up, his eyes locked on hers.

She looked rather pleased with herself. He was annoyed.

“You need quite a lot of practice, Ser Jaime.”

Back to Ser, she was mocking him.

Jaime’s eyes narrowed and moved first, coming at her with speed she had not anticipated and was forced to jump out of the way. Jaime grinned, pleased with himself, his green eyes sparkling.

She struck back, just missing his ribs as he moved.

Then their swords clashed together again, this time bringing their faces close together, Jaime could feel her warm breath on his cheek, several pieces of her hair had escaped the tight braid she’d had it in, framing her face in such a way that could be considered lovely. Their eyes met and for a moment, Jaime got lost in her blues, enraptured by not only the color but the determination he saw in them. Everything around them seemed to fade away as they stood there, swords crossed, bodies pressed toward each other, eyes locked until Jaime’s slid down to her lips. Her scarred, chapped, imperfect lips that he wanted to kiss so very badly.

Suddenly, as if shocked, Brienne pulled away from him, letting her sword drop just enough for Jaime to make firm contact with her right shoulder with the blunted side of the sword.

Frustrated by her distraction, Brienne pulled up her sword and went at him again, this time the fight lasted longer, their weapons making contact at a furious pace. Their bodies moved as if in a dance while they parried, blocked and swung fiercely at each other.

Jaime was sweating under the layers of northern clothes, but it felt good to move, to work muscles that had been stagnant too long. Eventually even Brienne grew tired of their fight and rather than hold back as she had been, pushed back, hard, forcing Jaime off his feet and onto the ground. He looked more than a little surprised but smiled.

“Holding back on me, wench?” he said and stood slowly, using the sword to lever himself back up.

She had the grace to look guilty, “I did not mean to, it’s your first-“

“Relax, my lady. It’s quite all right, I needed a good knock on my ass.”

Nodding, she led them back to the small pavilion to put back the swords, the grounds had become quiet as they fought, emptying as it had become late in the day and much colder. They swapped out the practice swords for their matching twins, securing them back at their hips.

Jaime watched while she adjusted the belt, as the fading sun lit her blonde hair nearly white. She was not a woman he would have normally given a second look to, but Brienne had caught his attention easily, first with her unconventional appearance and behavior and continued to intrigue with her unbreakable vows and honor. She was…singular and he was in awe of her, really. She stuck to her morals, never relenting even when it would have benefitted her. It was admirable.

“Brienne,” he whispered and when she turned toward him, placed a tentative, glove-clad hand on her cheek. Her eyes widened, but she did not pull away as he thought she might.

His thumb brushed across her red-tinted cheek as his eyes took her in, every freckle, scar and mark on her face before landing once again on her lips then flicking back to her eyes – making it patently clear what he intended to do and giving her opportunity to stop him.

She didn’t.

Jaime leaned in, gently brushing her nose with his before placing his lips firmly on hers, she was stiff a moment before relaxing into him a bit and kissing him back with a little more force. Inside Jaime smiled, she’d clearly had little experience even kissing someone but was trying. And despite their rough appearance, her lips were smooth against his.

They pulled apart for a moment before Brienne leaned in again, kissing him harder, with more passion and confidence, he responded in kind and put his left hand on her hip, pulling her in so their bodies were flush as they could be (for some reason his body wouldn’t let him touch her with his golden hand, it seemed…wrong somehow). Her hands, which had been loose at her side came up and wound around his neck, fingers digging into his hair, hair that had gotten much longer on the trip north, it sent a tingling sensation down his spine. He had not lied to Catelyn Stark all those years ago, the only woman he’d ever been with was Cersei, the only woman he’d kissed had been Cersei but this…this felt different. With Brienne there was a feeling of all encompassing want and need, more than just base lust as he’d has with his sister. This felt like he’d found a soulmate, the other half of him. And he wanted everything she would give him.

Just as Jaime tentatively put his tongue to her lips, there was a commotion in the adjacent courtyard near the gates, yelling, loud banging. They pulled apart swiftly, both reaching for their swords and moved toward the noise as one.

The gates were opened and Jaime watched as a large man (likely a wildling) with red hair and beard burst through, several more men followed. All looked like they had been on the wrong side of a war.

Brienne replaced her sword and said lowly, “Wildlings, from the wall.”

The red-haired man looked around, caught Brienne’s eye and proclaimed loudly, “The wall has fallen, the dead march on the north!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this chapter, a lot. Hopefully you enjoy it!! There will probably be 2-3 more chapters. Comments are loooove.


	4. Chapter 4

The whole situation was fucking hilarious, if he was being honest.

The dead were marching on the north. Slowly, granted, but still marching. Tormund and his band of wildings had ridden straight through from Castle Black after the wall had fallen and after consulting with Bran, they’d determined the horde was little more than a fortnight out, if they were lucky.

Jon and the Dragon Queen would arrive within five days, barely sufficient time to properly plan an assault, or even a good defense.

The newly created “War Council” – primarily Ser Davos, Sansa, Brienne, Jaime, Tormund and select Northern Lords - was struggling to come up with a solid plan for when the dead arrived, thankfully they had decided his input was worthwhile, not that Jaime’d really had any good input as of yet. It was a little hard to wrap one’s head around a hundred thousand of the undead marching for them and trying to anticipate what they would do. Even with Bran keeping close eye on progress.

Overall it was not looking good at Winterfell.

And yet…there was humor to be found in Winterfell. Primarily the fact the large redheaded wilding was clearly smitten with Brienne while the woman seemingly wanted nothing to do with him. Jaime almost felt bad for Tormund. They’d talked briefly over the last few days as they’d tried to plan, and while Jaime had found the man crass (moreso then Bronn, which was truly saying something), he genuinely _liked_ him. He was forthright, to a fault, and a good, solid fighter; overall a man he would want on his side in any war.

Several times Jaime had wanted to intervene when the other man became overbearing with Brienne but always stopped himself - Brienne was more than capable of handling one love sick wilding. Which she did, repeatedly, though primarily by ignoring him. It was somewhat amusing to him how Tormund followed her around with his eyes, or made a point of being in the same room with her. War council meetings involved watching the man stare at Brienne like she hung the world.

And yet…part of Jaime was jealous. While Brienne only paid the man the minimum amount of attention, it was just enough to keep him hanging on like a lost dog. At some point Jaime had come to think of her as “his”, so the fact another man so openly wanted her made his blood boil just a little. It made him want to plant a kiss on her lips right in front of the wildling just to make a point. But he also knew Brienne would be extremely displeased with that show of possession.

They had not kissed since that day Tormund and the other surviving wildings and men from Castle Black arrived, they’d barely had any time alone. Mornings were spent in war council meetings, afternoons spent training anyone who could hold a weapon. Time was of the essence now.

Which is where they were now. Brienne and Pod were vigorously sparring; the young man had made great strides in training and would be a solid fighter in the field. Jaime was equal parts impressed with Pod and proud of Brienne for teaching him so well. Jaime had been watching from the other side of the yard.

As they’d fought, Jaime observed Tormund standing to the side by the practice swords, watching Brienne with barely concealed desire. That jealously flared again but he tamped it down, Jaime knew damn well Brienne wanted nothing to do with the man. And yet, Tormund was either oblivious to her disinterest or intentionally ignoring it in the hope she would change her mind.

Jaime certainly hoped it was the first.

A sudden chill swept through him and Jaime pulled his furs closer around his torso – the cold was something he was not accustomed to. And every day it seemingly got colder, their breaths were visible at every hour of the day now. Yet another reminder of the threat that approached.

Pulling Jaime from his internal whining about the cold was Tormund suddenly approaching Brienne, who was now standing alone, watching the wilding with one eye. When he got too far into her personal space and said something indistinguishable, Brienne took a firm step back and stared daggers at the other man, Jaime wondered what he had said.

Then Tormund raised a sword he had pulled from the training rack and took a fighting stance. Jaime laughed. He was challenging the woman who had beaten _The Hound_. Jaime wondered if the other man thought if he could win in battle he would win her heart?

Truly a fool.

Amused, Jaime pushed off the post he’d been leaning against and approached the pair, waiting to see what Brienne would do.

Eventually, after letting out a long-suffering sigh, Brienne raised her training sword and took a fighting stance, Tormund did the same.

As expected, the wilding went on the offensive first, swinging the sword somewhat inelegantly down toward her shoulder, Brienne stepped easily to the side and tapped her sword against his ribs. Tormund looked both frustrated and impressed and stepped back before going on the offense again, lunging at her.

The sword just brushed across her armor and Brienne returned the swipe, but this time Tormund was faster, blocking her response and sending her sword toward the ground. Brienne recovered quickly and parried back, stepping toward Tormund, who backed up to avoid her sword. Another swing toward him and Tormund took several more steps back, now clearly on the defensive. They went back and forth for several minutes, Tormund’s fighting style was less polished, more lunging and brute force than Brienne’s which was smoother, almost more refined. Not that Brienne wasn’t capable of brute force, she most certainly was and proved it by never giving ground. Despite being on the losing side Tormund looked more smitten then ever with her.

Jaime was becoming less amused by the minute.

Spinning, Brienne brought her sword around, just stopping before making contact with his exposed neck.

“We are done,” she pronounced.

Tormund nodded. “We make a good match, you and I, woman.”

“Her name is Lady Brienne,” Jaime suddenly interjected with a wide smile. “Not woman. Have more respect.”

Tormund frowned at him, Brienne just gave him an odd look.

“That will be all today,” Brienne announced. “While I look forward to sparring another day, Tormund, that is all we will be doing.”

With that she placed the training sword back and picked up Oathkeeper, which she strapped to her waist.

“Ser Jaime,” she said and nodded for him to follow her.

Giving Tormund one last grin, Jaime turned and followed Brienne.

Arya, teaching some younger children caught his attention and Jaime slowed; it was a sad fact most of the women and children likely would not survive the coming winter. His heart broke, they were Tommen and Myrcella’s age.

“Are you all right?” A voice asked and he turned to find Brienne standing next to him, her eyes also on Arya and the half dozen youngsters.

“Most of them won’t survive this.”

“Likely not,” she said sadly and started walking again, he followed.

“Have you considered children?” he asked absently and shivered. It had gotten colder once more, he was sure of it.

She looked surprised by the question. “Not really, no. I mean…once it was clear no lord would be interested in me, I stopped considering it as an option. Decided I’d rather be a knight anyway.”

Jaime considered that a moment. “And if you…found a man who would be interested?”

Brienne came to a dead stop just short of the double doors to the armory and looked at him. “Are you implying…that we-“

The sheer panic on her face had him backtracking. “We? No. But clearly you have an admirer who would happily give you all the babies you ever wanted.”

“You speak of Tormund.”

“I do,” he said with a bit of amusement. “He’s of solid stock, you know.”

Her eyes rolled. “He’s boorish and no, I would not consider…anything with the man.”

“You’re sure? I mean, the size of your babies would be-“

“Jaime, enough.”

He raised his left hand in surrender. “I’m done, I promise.”

She didn’t look convinced but gestured for him to follow her through the doors and into the cavernous armory then a smaller anteroom near the back and to their left. Inside was a withered old man, leaning over a table that was covered in weapons of all shapes and sizes.

“Davis,” Brienne said and when the older man didn’t look up, repeated it quite loudly, “Davis!”

The man looked up and his smile brightened significantly, perhaps the Lady Brienne had three admirers at Winterfell.

“Oh, Lady Brienne, lovely to see you! It’s all set, is this the gentleman?”

“Yes, Davis, it is.”

Now Jaime was thoroughly confused, until he saw what Davis lifted from a smaller table behind him and his breath caught in his chest.

It was a new hand.

But not any new hand he noticed as Davis approached. In the place of fingers instead there were three, six to seven-inch-long pieces of dragon glass welded to the metal fist. _This_ was a hand he could use in battle.

“This is…incredible,” he said as it was passed to him. It was lightweight, easily half the weight of his current, useless one.

“It was your Lady’s idea,” the old man said as Jaime pulled off the gold hand, setting it on a nearby table.

Jaime snuck a glance at Brienne who blushed furiously.

The old man continued, not noticing their exchange. “See the straps here? They wrap around your upper arm and shoulder, it will help keep the weight off the stump part, which I am sure aches.”

“It does indeed. Especially when it rains.”

“Also makes it sturdier for fighting, it’s made of metal but lined with sheepskin, nice and soft and will help keep it dry. The straps have sheepskin as well so it won’t rub your skin raw. The metal work was done by a young boy who just arrived here, Gendry I think. Wonderful metal smith, truly gifted. The dragon glass is welded on using a technique I haven’t seen before but should be solid as a rock. Similar to how pommels are attached to swords.”

As he spoke the old man showed Jaime how to wind the straps up and over his shoulder. Once secured, Jaime tested its range, the hand moved smoothly with him, the straps slipping only enough so he could swing it like a sword. When he pulled his hand back to his side, the straps fell neatly back into place.

“I cannot thank you enough,” he said with tears welling in his eyes. “Both of you.”

“Like I said, thank your Lady, she had the idea and brought us measurements to use.”

Jaime looked at Brienne with awe. “Is this what you have been doing when you disappear after morning meetings?”

Brienne looked slightly uncomfortable but nodded.

“Thank you,” he said. “Just…thank you…”

Jaime didn’t have a word sufficient enough to describe the feeling that was expanding in his chest, it frustrated him. This had been designed with care, love even, to be a useful weapon rather than just a way to cover his stump. The time she had taken to make sure this would be right, it was far and away more than Cersei had ever, or would ever for that matter. Their eyes met and held for a long while, Jaime trying to silently convey his appreciation.

For not the first time, Jaime was awed by her, what had he done to deserve this woman in his life? Nothing he could account for.

“There’s another!” Davis called out, breaking their gaze, and walked back to the small table, picking up another hand nearly identical in appearance except no dragon glass, instead just a metal fist. “This one is more practical for every day, and lighter even.”

Jaime got off the dragon glass hand fairly easily and pulled on the metal one with little help, it had even been designed so he could put it on himself.

“Davis, thank you once again,” Jaime said and nodded toward the smaller man.

As they started out, Brienne holding the weaponized hand, Davis yelled to him, “Ser! Your golden hand!”

“It’s yours, Davis.” The man looked surprised, the hand was probably worth more gold then he’d ever seen in his life. “Though with winter upon us it might not be worth much. Use it as you see fit to help the cause.”

“Yes, Ser Jaime. Thank you!”

Once they were alone again the larger armory, Jaime stopped her with his left hand, letting it linger on her forearm.

“Brienne. I…I still cannot find a word suitable enough to express how much this means to me. The time and effort…”

“Consider it repayment for Oathkeeper,” she said, still blushing.

“Its not the same and you know it.”

“You have done much for me, and Lady Sansa. It is rightly deserved. And that golden monstrosity would be a hinderance in battle.”

Jaime smiled and shook his head in amusement. “Thank you, Brienne.”

“You are welcome, Jaime.”

As they’d talked Jaime had moved closer to her and his hand reached across the space between them to cup her face, thumb gently brushing her cheek. If the hand with the dragon glass was not between them he would have moved even closer.

“It is more than anyone has ever done for me outside of duty.”

“Cersei had your golden hand-“

“Cersei spent an hour at best having a useless thing made for me just to cover what she could not handle seeing. I think it disgusted her,” he spat out.

“Why would it-“

Jaime was a hairsbreadth away from her lips. “Could we not discuss my lying sister right now?”

“All right,” she whispered, and he closed the gap (careful of the hand between them), kissing her with as much emotion as he could manage, he needed her to fully understand how much what she had done for him meant.

His fingers moved into her hair, which was left loose today, and tugged gently at the tresses.

A moan came from her lips, still pressed to his, and Jaime felt it below the waist. They pulled apart only long enough to take a breath before coming back together with more ferocity, teeth clashing, want and need displayed in its most basic, primitive form.

Gods, he wanted her so badly. Gods, he was pretty sure he _loved_ her.

“Brienne,” he whispered between desperate kisses and pulled back only enough so he could pepper the underside of her jaw with kisses and light bites.

She whimpered and tipped her head back slightly, encouraging him.

“Jaime,” she pressed out when his lips found her pulse point, he’d nudged her furs out of the way enough to find it. “Jaime,” she said again and pushed him away a little bit. “Stop.”

Instantly he did, taking a step back and relishing in her flushed face, swollen lips and disheveled hair.

They stood in silence for a few moments.

“We cannot-“ she started.

“Well, not here, no.” He supplied with a grin.

“Jaime-“

“Brienne, why fight it?”

Honestly, she did not have a good answer for that. She had feelings for him, certainly, possibly even love. So what was stopping her? The fact she was still a maiden? They were not wed? That his feelings were somewhat unknown? That the end of the world was at their doorstep and there were a hundred other things they _should_ be doing?

Jaime’s laugh pulled her from her rambling thoughts. “You are overthinking this…” Wench was on the tip of his tongue, but he pulled it back. “If you truly do not want to be with me I will accept that and walk away, I do not wish to force anything upon you. But, if you do then why wait? The end could be near, I want what little life I may have left to be spent with you-“

“And I with you.”

“Then _be with me_ , Brienne.”

“Why me?” she asked suddenly and Jaime took a step back from her.

“After all we have been through together, you still have to ask that question?” he said, confused.

“I do. I am…not beautiful, nor small or lithe or a Lady, really. Why me?”

“ _Because_ you are none of those things!” he said, exasperated and waved his new hand around as if that was the point. “You are kind, and loyal and the most honest person I know. Your goodness makes you the most beautiful woman in this world. And do not underestimate the hypnotic quality of those blue eyes of yours. The real wonder is why you’d have anything to do with me.”

“You are a good person as well, Ser Jaime, even if not everyone knows. You helped Lady Sansa when you had no reason to, only someone who cares would do something like that.”

Jaime pressed his forehead to hers, gently rubbing her nose with his. “We are quite the pair.”

She laughed, a rare, wonderous sound to his ears, then, “Indeed.”

They came together again for a brief, promising kiss.

“It is cold at night,” he said as they parted.

“Very.”

“It would be…less cold if we shared a bed. Body heat, you know.”

Her body warmed immediately at his words. “I think that would be…wise.”

Jaime sucked in a deep breath and kissed her once more, this time gently.

Parting, he led her back through the double doors.

To utter chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I realize Ive been remiss in saying thank you! So...thank you to all who have pressed the kudos button or left comments. Love the comments, they help me know what you like!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, we back it up and see the last bit of chapter 4 from Brienne's point of view first, I felt it was important.

“Then _be with me_ , Brienne.”

The words were clear, the meaning even more so, and yet, Brienne hesitated, years of mocking and japs at her expense clouding the words, making her doubt his intentions.

“Why me?” The words came forth before she could stop them, Jaime took a step back from her.

“After all we have been through together, you still have to ask that question?” he asked.

_She did, Gods help her she did._ Because too many men had mocked her feelings, used them to their own advantage, it seemed…unfathomable that _Jaime Lannister_ of all people would want her in any way. And yet, it was because this was Jaime, a man she had shared so much with, that it seemed possibly true.

Hesitantly she said, “I do. I am…not beautiful, nor small or lithe or a Lady, really. Why me?”

“ _Because_ you are none of those things!” he said, exasperated and waved his new hand around as if that was the point. “You are kind, and loyal and the most honest person I know. Your goodness makes you the most beautiful woman in this world. And do not underestimate the hypnotic quality of those blue eyes of yours. The real wonder is why you’d have anything to do with me.”

Brienne realized with a start that Jaime underestimated his own inherit goodness, that he believed the _Kingslayer_ name held more weight with her than it did. She cared little about what others thought of her, or Jaime. In her heart Brienne knew what kind of person he was, even if she was the _only_ person who knew.

“You are a good person as well, Ser Jaime, even if not everyone knows. You saved me…more than once, even when it did not benefit you. And you helped me save Sansa, only a man who cares would do that.”

“We are quite the pair.”

She laughed, at that, he was certainly correct. “Indeed.”

They came together again for a brief, promising kiss.

“It is cold at night,” he said as they parted.

“Very.” Brienne could sense where this was going, she knew him all too well.

“It would be…less cold if we shared a bed. Body heat, you know.”

For once, Brienne did not overthink it and let her feelings and own needs take over. “I think that would be…wise.”

Jaime sucked in a deep breath and kissed her once more.

Parting, he led her back through the double doors.

It was utter chaos outside. They both froze, hands immediately going to the swords at their waists, Brienne carefully balancing the dragon stone hand.

But it was not a panicked chaos. The noise was more…joyful than anything. They shared a glance of confusion and moved toward the still closed gates, most people stayed back, nearest the castle keep, while Sansa stood near the gates, her red hair easy to spot in the relentless snow. Arya and Bran stood to either side of her, Davos beside Bran and Lord Royce and Pod next to Davos. Various other lords of the north had filed in behind them along with Samwell Tarley and the Hound. Tormund, she noted, was missing but Ghost, the direwolf that followed Sansa around nearly constantly, was sitting primly at her feet, red eyes on the gates.

Jaime smiled, even in these times, the Starks put together a receiving line – as sparse as it may be.

“My Lady?” Brienne asked as she touched Sansa’s arm.

“Jon’s here…” she said with a small grin.

Brienne was surprised, this was earlier than expected.

Before she could ask more a deafening screech came from above them.

The crowd looked up simultaneously to see a large, ominous looking dragon flying high above Winterfell, its screeching and the sounds of its wings flapping bringing all noise to a halt. The creature was enormous and black and red, its jaws half the size of the Great Hall, wingspan easily that of the courtyard where they stood, it was terrifying and awe inspiring all at once. It let out another ear-piercing screech then flew off, disturbing snow in its wake and causing a small blizzard in the courtyard.

Jaime’s left hand reached out and gripped Brienne’s forearm, if the dragons were here that meant their Mother was not far behind. It had been in the back of their minds, that all of Jaime’s good works here could be easily torn to pieces by the Dragon Queen, it was her father he’d killed in that throne room, lending to the Targaryen destruction. There was very little either of them could do if she decided she wanted him exiled or worse, dead. So, they had not discussed or even thought about it, really. They thought there had been more time.

Dutifully Brienne stood next to Arya, who gave her an excited grin. Brienne gathered that Arya had been much closer to her half-brother than Sansa, the young girl was practically vibrating with excitement.

Then the gates were opening, and Jaime gripped her arm a little harder before disappearing into the crowd of lords, there was no need to draw attention to his presence just yet.

A small group rode through the gates led by Jon Stark and Daenerys Targaryen on identical black stallions, her silver blonde hair stark even against the falling snow. Jaime took another small step back, she looked so much like her poor mother; another of his many failures was not protecting Rhaella from her own husband and brother; occasionally her screams still rattled through his head.

Following them were a lovely looking dark-skinned woman, a dark-skinned man who was clearly Dothraki if his attempt at winter clothing was any indication, Varys and four additional men who appeared to be soldiers. But not Tyrion. Jaime had hoped to see his brother, each passing day had brought excitement that soon they would be reunited, this time on the right (and same) side. There was a heaviness in his heart that Tyrion was not with them. Jaime assumed he had been left back with the larger group to lead them to Winterfell.

Jon’s eyes found Sansa immediately, then landed on Arya and finally Bran and the King’s entire face lit up with excitement at seeing his siblings. Jaime envied the Starks in that moment; they had been torn apart, their family scattered across Westeros in varying degrees of danger. And yet, as winter officially came they had found their way back to each other, to Winterfell, destined to lead the fight against the dead.

Swiftly Jon dismounted and went to Bran, kneeling on the cold ground in front of the boy and hugging him for a long while, the brothers exchanged words, Jaime could see, but couldn’t hear what they said. Jon came away smiling and stood, turning to Arya who shed her hard exterior and jumped into Jon’s open arms, who then swung her around like a child. Arya laughed and called out, “You’re early!”

“We are, Sansa’s last letter spoke of the dead closing in so we forged ahead of the group, they should start arriving within two days,” he said as he ruffled the direwolf’s fur around his ears.

_Two days, his brother would be here in two days_.

As Jon reunited with his siblings, Daenerys had gotten down from her horse and stood quietly with a small smile as she watched the Starks.

“Daenerys, these are my siblings, Arya, Bran and Sansa, Lady of Winterfell.”

Jaime frowned, Jon had not used a title while introducing the Dragon Queen. Why?

Sansa bowed slightly, as a highborn lady was taught to do. “Your Grace, your arrival was unexpected, so while we have rooms prepared for you and your companions might I suggest some supper? We can feast tomorrow.”

Daenerys smiled. “Supper would be lovely, thank you my Lady. And a feast is wholly unnecessary, I should not have limited food supplies wasted on a celebration.”

Sansa looked more than relieved at not having to cut into what he knew was already slim food stores.

Sansa raised her hand, indicating for Daenerys to follow her and the two women started toward the Great Hall, Jon trailing slowly behind with Arya who was pushing Bran. As he walked, Jon’s eyes skimmed over the crowed, nodding at those he passed. Until his eyes landed on Jaime, then he stopped dead and stared at him, though not in surprise, his face was a mix of conflicting emotions. He leaned over to Arya, said something and the small girl gave Jaime a sharp look before continuing, still pushing Bran.

Jon’s eyes narrowed, and he tipped his head back slightly, Jaime sighed and approached the King in the North, Brienne had stayed behind and was now standing firm next to him, her eyes on Jon.

“Jaime Lannister,” Jon breathed out. “My sister wrote that you were here, and…why.”

“My…Lord. It is with regret I inform you that, indeed, Cersei has no intention of abiding by the agreement. Her forces will remain in the south…for now.”

Jon’s eyes flitted to Brienne then back to Jaime’s. “I assume she intends to take back everything south while we are…otherwise occupied?”

“Yes.”

Jon started walking and nodded for Jaime and Brienne to follow, leading them toward a quiet area of the courtyard near an alcove.

“With the Golden Company?”

“Yes, your Grace.”

Jon sighed and looked up to the sky, it had darkened since they’d arrived, the days grew ever shorter.

“And the Lannister forces?”

“Also with…the south. They no longer follow me.”

“Are you certain of that?” Jon asked, sounding hopeful. “Would they follow you if given the choice?”

Jaime truly wasn’t sure, by now Cersei would have informed the troops of his defection and likely put Ser Ashton in charge. But he was their commander, not his sister, not Ser Ashton. It was possible the addition of the Golden Company would only infuriate some of the most loyal in the group.

“I’m not certain, true, most were loyal to the Lannister name, to me,” he shrugged, “But now? who knows what Cersei has told them.”

After a moment of contemplation, Jon asked, “Any idea where they are now?”

“The troops?” Jaime asked, and Jon nodded. “No, no idea.”

Jon sighed. “All right.”

“I don’t believe Cersei will come this far north, not yet. She’s betting on the North winning and then swooping in and picking off whomever is left.”

Jon stared at him. “Including you, Ser Jaime? Her own brother?”

Jaime let out a wry laugh. “If it were possible, she’d pick me off first.”

“Sansa has informed me that you’ve been of great assistance since your arrival. And that your intentions appear true.”

“I fight for the living, Jon Snow. And I made a promise to fight with the North, which I intend to do; with or without my army.”

“We need all the men we can get these days, Ser Jaime,” he said after a long moment and clapped Jaime on the shoulder.

“Does the Dragon Queen feel the same?” Jaime asked more confidently then he actually felt.

Jon read between the lines. “Daenerys is aware of your presence here; Lord Tyrion has spoken often in your favor. I believe she has…softened regarding the circumstances around her father’s murder. She is not unaware of the reasons he was call the Mad King.”

“Softened? As in I may keep my head and remain unburnt?”

Jon laughed. “I certainly hope so. She is far more forgiving then you might expect.”

“We shall see about that.”

Jon merely nodded and turned back into the keep, leaving Brienne and Jaime alone. Brienne’s face was scrunched up in concentration.

“What is it?” Jaime sighed.

“Do you believe the Dragon Queen has…softened in regards to your killing her father?”

“Doubtful, but I believe Lord Snow believes she has. And that Tyrion has tried his best. While I did not start the war that brought down the Targaryen’s, killing Aerys certainly finished it, sending her and her mother and brothers fleeing for their lives.”

Brienne considered that and realized, truly, what coming North could possibly cost him – his life. “You are a brave man, Jaime Lannister.”

“Some might say foolish,” he retorted with a laugh.

“I’m serious,” she said, frustrated at his deflection.

The smile fell from his face. “I know. Thank you. Always.”

With that Jaime looked around, confirmed most people had disappeared back inside and leaned into her for a brief kiss. It seemed the only thing in this place that warmed him.

“Ser Jaime!” Pod voice broke them apart and they each stared at him in annoyance, the squire looked wholly unsurprised by their closeness and ignored it. “The Dragon Queen has request your audience after supper.”

“So I am to get a last meal, eh?”

Brienne looked angrily at him, Pod glanced between the two, decided he wanted nothing to do with whatever would happen next and disappeared back wherever he’d come from, his message delivered.

“Its not amusing,” Brienne hissed.

Jaime’s bravado deflated. “I know, I know. Its that or acknowledge the fact she could kill me for-“

“For saving a half million people, Jaime. Do not forget that part. King Aerys would have burned all of Kings Landing in his madness, and it _was_ madness, you did the right thing.”

Jaime’s face relaxed and he touched her cheek again, letting his fingers trace a pattern in her freckles.

“You are right, Lady Brienne.”

This time he kissed her forehead and they walked back into the Great Hall for supper.

Since it was an early meal the Great Hall was not completely full. At the head table sat the Starks plus Daenerys, Varys and Davos. Brienne and Jaime sat with the rest of their retinue plus Pod at a table near them. The remaining tables in the hall were filled with the Northern Lords and assorted north men. It was quieter than most meals, Daenerys seemed to draw significant attention – even if it was just staring.

Jaime sat next to Brienne (she had taken the time to place the dragon glass hand in his room before the meal), drinking in everything about her that he could. If the Dragon Queen was not as merciful as others believed at least he could go knowing in the end he had done the right thing and with Brienne in his memories.

The meal was silent until near the end when Brienne looked at him. “Stop sulking.”

“I’m not-“ He was, and he knew it. “I’m sorry if my _sulking_ about my potential impending death is bothering you.”

Brienne let out a long-suffering sigh. “You are not going to die tonight, Jaime Lannister.”

“And how do you know that, Brienne of Tarth?”

“I won’t allow it.”

He blinked a few times, a little confused. “Somehow I don’t think the Dragon Queen is going to care much what you will and will not allow.”

“You have come to Winterfell, without an army and pledged yourself to the North. You have turned the lords to your favor, made peace with Brandon Stark. If nothing else, it is a matter of practicality, you have a keen military mind, one that should be spared if we hope to win this war.”

Jaime smiled. “Practicality?”

Brienne looked flustered and a blush started to rise. “Amongst…other things, yes.”

Under the table he put his left hand on her thigh, right above her knee and squeezed gently. The blush immediately rose to her cheeks and Jaime grinned. For what remained of the meal his hand stayed firmly on her thigh, fingers occasionally tapping a rhythm or stroking slowly, but never moving. He reveled in the way it distracted her speaking to Pod or one of the other guardsmen.

By all the old Gods and the new he hoped this was not his last night in this world.

Sneaking glances at the head table, Jaime’s anxiety rose as the meals disappeared; he’d been increasingly quiet as well which Brienne had clearly noticed and tried to calm him by placing her hand on his on her thigh. It didn’t help.

The dark-haired woman, who Jaime had learned was Missandei, approached the table, just her presence was calming. “Her Grace would like to speak to you, Ser Jaime.”

Brienne squeezed his hand under the table and Jaime gave her a strained smile as he got up and followed the Queens advisor back to the same small room he’d met with Sansa the day of his arrival at Winterfell. Missandei closed the door as she departed.

To his surprise, Daenerys was alone in the room, her back to the door staring out the lone window at the snow. At some point someone had provided her a fur lined cloak, which she now wore.

“I am not sure I will ever adjust to this cold,” she said and turned toward him, her expression unreadable.

“It is especially…biting,” he replied.

Daenerys nodded in agreement. “I suppose you know why I have asked you to meet with me?”

The old Lannister sarcasm came out, even if he didn’t want it to. “Probably something to do with the fact I killed your father.” Immediately Jaime cringed, he hadn’t meant for it to sound so callous. “Apologies, your Grace. I-”

She cut him off. “While your tone is questionable your words are correct.”

Silence fell over them for several minutes before Daenerys spoke again. “I am not…unaware of my father’s madness, it has been brought to my attention many times, by many people. Mostly notably your brother, who often uses it weapon to temper my…outbursts.” Jaime remained silent. “Did he truly have wildfire stored under Kings Landing?”

“He did, yes. Caches everywhere. Under the Great Sept, the Red Keep, homes, taverns. Everywhere.”

“People’s homes?”

“Yes. I believe he was of the mind that if he could not rule Kings Landing, no one would.”

“How many people in Kings Landing at the time?”

“Half a million, maybe more.”

“Tyrion has told me what happened the day your father sacked Kings Landing. But you were with him…” The question remained unspoken.

“I warned Aerys not to open the gates, I tried to convince him to surrender, not once, but twice. You can ask your advisor Varys, he was there for the first before Aerys ordered the gates opened. The second time was after my father had started sacking the city and was approaching the Keep, Aerys had gone mad, ranting about the Targaryen dynasty and ordered me to bring him my father’s head.” Jaime paused and looked straight at Daenerys. “Then he turned to his pyromancer and for the rest of my days I will never forget what he said _‘burn them all, burn them in their homes, burn them in their beds’_. You see, your father was obsessed with burning people.” Daenerys eyes widened slightly. “Anyone who disagreed with him, anyone who disobeyed him he burned. Liked to watch the way the flesh bubbled and burned, melting off bones…”

“Stop,” Daenerys said and raised a gloved hand, her eyes downcast. She looked almost…ashamed. “I didn’t realize…”

“There is much I have done that I regret, more than you can imagine; most of it done because I thought at the time it was the right thing. But slitting the Mad Kings throat is not one of them. Innocent men, women and children would have been murdered for no reason, I could not stand by and watch that happen. I could not. So if it is an apology you want, it will not be forthcoming; if that means my head or being turned to ash so be it.”

Daenerys was silent a long while, contemplating his words. “I hated you for as long as I could remember. My brother blamed you for…everything we had gone through. Our father’s death, our exile. Everything but our mother’s death which he blamed squarely on me, since she died birthing me.” She sat in one of the chairs and Jaime followed suit, sitting across the table from her. “He told stories of the Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, who murdered his king, our father, in cold blood, and was pardoned by the usurper. Oh, how he hated you.”

“No one knew the truth save my brother and…Lady Brienne.”

“Lady Brienne, the woman knight?”

“She is not officially a knight, but yes.”

“Why did you not speak the truth?”

Jaime shrugged. “I was six and ten at the time. Ned Stark, lord of Winterfell, found me in the throne room with the bodies. Who would believe me? Stark judged me guilty the moment he walked in and Robert pardoned me anyway. So I became the Kingslayer and for a long while I reveled in it, enjoyed the moniker and fear it bestowed upon me.” His thoughts turned to Brienne, and how she had changed him, made him see he did not have to live up to the title, that he could be a good person even as a Lannister. “Until recently, anyway. I no longer wish to be known as the Kingslayer. If I die in this battle against the dead I want to be remembered for fighting for the right side, the just side.”

“For her,” she said and Jaime’s eyes snapped to Daenerys’, the woman was smiling slightly, she was far more observant that Jaime gave her credit for.

“Yes, for her.”

“Would you die for her?”

“Without question.”

The Dragon Queen nodded. “Tyrion, Lady Sansa and Ser Davos all vouch for you, they assure me you have turned your back on your sister for good.”

“I have, her madness is near that of Aerys. It took far too long for me to see it.”

“Your military knowledge will be most valuable,” she said and stood.

Jaime sat confused a moment before standing as well. “I assume this means I keep my head.”

“Well, there is still the matter of your attempt to kill me.”

Jaime flinched. _There was that._

“In my defense you were turning my men to ashes.”

“Indeed, I was.” She sighed and gave him a long apprising look. “Once this is over and the walkers are gone and I am sitting on the Iron Throne, assuming you live, do you promise to serve me?”

“No,” Jaime said, truthfully. “But I do promise not to fight against you. When this is over, assuming we live, I’m done fighting. I go where Lady Brienne goes. If she’ll have me.”

Daenerys nodded. “Agreed.”

Jaime frowned, it was almost too easy. “Forgive me, my Grace. But that easily you would let me go?”

“Once I sit on the Iron Throne there will be peace, I will have little use for a man who lived to fight but no longer wants to or is capable. I’m breaking the wheel, Ser Jaime.”

“Thank you, your Grace,” he breathed out. A weight had been lifted from his chest, a weight he hadn’t even realized had been there. Suddenly a future with Brienne seemed possible and less like a dream.

She nodded and Jaime turned and left the room, leaning against the wall in the hall for a brief moment, collecting his thoughts. Though the only thought in his head was: Brienne.

Emboldened he walked toward the Great Hall again, hoping she would still be there. The room was all but bare save a few men who were finishing supper.

His mind whirled, trying to figure out where she would go and then it came to him and he marched out of the Great Hall into the courtyard, up the worn wooden steps to the battlements and walked along the top of the castle until he came upon her, standing at attention and looking out onto the north.

“Brienne,” he called, and she turned toward him, concern visible.

“Jaime…”

“I’ve been pardoned.”

“Oh, Jaime,” she breathed and moved toward him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as best her armor would allow.

Jaime pulled away. “Are you on duty?”

“No, I just needed to…clear my head.”

He gripped her hand in his and tugged gently. “I’m quite cold, my Lady. And it is getting late.”

“It is indeed, perhaps we should retire.”

Quietly they moved through the castle (Jaime was finally getting a handle on the twists and turns) and came to the hallway with both their rooms.

Brienne cleared her throat then lead him to her room, opening the door but standing in the hall. “My…accommodations are larger.”

“Hold on,” Jaime said and disappeared into his room, returning with his dragon glass hand. “Don’t want to be surprised without it.”

Nervousness was radiating off her in waves and Jaime leaned in, kissing her gently. “Just sleep, Brienne.”

“What if…” her voice cracked and she started again, voice stronger, determined. “What if I don’t want to just sleep.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Then we don’t just sleep.”

And he held her hand, pulling her gently into the room and closing the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all so very lovely, thank you for the comments and kudos.  
> The next chapter will pick up immediately after this one and will be M, whoo! Initially that was going to be my last chapter but I really feel like we need to see Jaime and Tyrion together again. Yes? Yes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> M RATED. You have been warned.

Once he’d closed the door and bolted it, Jaime turned to see Brienne standing with her back to him, ramrod straight; he wasn’t sure she was even breathing, anxiety was coming off her in waves.

“Brienne,” he whispered and reached out, tapping the back of her hand gently. Her head turned toward him just a bit, the fire that Pod had lit earlier showing the hesitation on her face. “We don’t have to…”

“I want to, Jaime,” she said. “Truly, I do. It’s just…I’ve never…”

Jaime leaned in whispering in her ear. “And I’ve only ever with one woman. But I want this, with you. I want to learn you, Brienne, touch every part of you, find what makes you sigh or…scream.”

Trembling, she nodded. “As do I.”

One of her hands came up and started trying to untie the leather that held the pieces of her breastplate together. Jaime stopped the movement with a hand on hers and took over, pulling the leather on one side, then the other until he had removed all ties and buckles, it was a slow process with just the one hand but Jaime was nothing if not determined. Gently he pulled the cuirass off her body, setting it carefully on the floor.

Underneath she wore a gambeson and Jaime internally cursed the numerous ties that ran up the front. Dresses were so much easier than this, but his Brienne did not wear such things and so he moved to stand before her.

The expression on her face had moved from hesitant to something closer to unsure but her eyes were darker than usual, following his movements.

Jaime kissed her deeply and it felt like coming home, a feeling of peace but underneath a current of lust ran through him, kissing her was electric and he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, but not actually entering, even when she parted them. Part of him was determined to take this slow, to revel in her but another part, the part that was screaming at him wanted to tear her clothes off and take her as quickly as possible. Jaime was trying to ignore the second part.

“If you want me to stop…” he said against her mouth. “Anytime, tell me.”

Brienne nodded and this time she kissed him, a little rougher than he would have expected but Jaime liked it, returning the kiss with fervor. As they kissed, Jaime’s left hand wandered down to the tie at the bottom of her gambeson and pulled firmly, releasing the ends so he could start pulling the strings through the material, slowly but surely revealing the shift she wore underneath to him. Lips clashed and Brienne became slightly more desperate the farther up he got, pulling away from him every few seconds so they could breathe before coming back together again, lip and teeth clashing. Jaime wasn’t sure they were going to manage to take this slow.

When his knuckle pressed the material of her shift against the skin under her breast, Brienne gasped in surprise and pulled back slightly, lust filled eyes staring at him. He paused only a moment before going back to his work of undressing her, this time making sure his fingers pressed against her as often as possible.

“Jaime,” she whispered, and he looked up to find her watching his hand as it pulled strings apart, slowly, painfully slowly exposing more of her. The shift she wore was practically see through, its purpose only to prevent the leather from biting into her skin so once he got to the top and pulled apart the material she shivered slightly in the cold. Jaime leaned over and placed several open-mouthed kisses on her collarbone as he pushed the gambeson off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

Brienne tilted her head back and allowed him access to kiss up her neck, licking and sucking as he went, his hand finding her breast over the shift. She moaned under him and his dick strained even harder against his trousers.

Gods he wanted her so badly.

When he nipped at skin under her jaw it woke something in Brienne, her hands suddenly moved to his jacket, pulling desperately at the hooks that held it closed, her fingers trembling so badly she struggled. But Jaime didn’t help, instead he tortured her some more, kissing under her jaw, back down her neck to her breast where he sucked at her nipple through the still present shift.

Brienne jumped under him and cried out, “Gods”, as he continued to suck and kiss at her breast. After a moment her fingers went back to work on his jacket, more quickly ridding him of the thing and tossing it carelessly to the floor.

Her hands wrapped around hips before slipping under his shirt, fingers leaving a hot trail in their wake wherever they touched, first his lower back before moving toward his abdomen and mapping out the muscle there. Fingernails scraping across his own nipples caused Jaime to pull back and suck in a deep breath.

Faster, they needed to go faster.

To that end Jaime quickly stripped off his undershirt, Brienne’s eyes narrowed dangerously at his exposed skin and her hands reached out, touching his forearms, fingertips ghosting over skin as they moved up, over muscled skin to his shoulders, then collarbones before running up the sides of his neck and over his jaw.

Her lips parted slightly, and she slowly licked them before grasping her lower lip in her teeth as she eyed him like a meal. Before she could touch him again though, Jaime moved behind her, hand trailing across her abdomen as he did.

The shift she wore was practically see through in the firelight and Jaime took in the outline of her body, before gripping the material in his left hand and starting to tug it up. His right hand had remained close to his own body.

“I need a little help here,” he said lowly and placed several kisses along the column of her neck before nuzzling the little hairs that had escaped her braid.

Jaime knew once her shift was gone, he would unable to take it slow anymore so for just a moment he relished the feel of her in his arms, still slightly trembling.

Brienne replaced his hand with hers and quickly pulled the linen over her head, leaving her exposed to him. She was thinner than the last time he’d seen her naked in the baths of Harrenhal, a product of winter and rationed food supplies but she was still as beautiful, curvy with muscles that rippled under pale skin.

He reached a hand out and ran his fingers down her spine to the top of her pants, she shivered under the touch.

“Jaime,” she gasped desperate, needy, he could hear it in her voice.

“Yes, love?” he asked and press his bare torso to her back, kissing the smooth skin on the tops of her shoulders until he came to her neck, Brienne instinctively tilted her head to the side, exposing the light pink scars from the bear so long ago. Tenderly he placed kisses on the skin then let his tongue trace the lines. This was the moment Jaime had realized he might have feelings for the maid, standing in that field with Bolton’s men, knowing _he_ would be the reason she would likely be raped that night.

A shiver of terror ran through him and Brienne turned her head. “Jaime?”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled into her neck and bit the skin gently. Brienne moaned again, and the thought was driven from his mind. She was here now, in his arms.

His left hand circled round her torso, carefully cupping one breast, they were larger than he remembered, and Brienne moaned, panting now, her eyes fluttered closed as he gently squeezed and played.

Jaime’s right hand, which had mostly stayed close to his side moved around her waist and when the metal touched her abdomen, Brienne squealed (actually squealed) in surprise and jumped in his arms.

“It’s cold,” she explained and set about removing the straps and hand in haste, dropping it on the floor by her breastplate. “Better,” she said and her warm hands traced the scars of the stump, not at all afraid of it. Cersei had never touched this part of him, it had clearly disturbed her.

Jaime pushed thoughts of his traitorous sister aside and slipped his hand from her breast, down her belly and pushed past the waistline of her pants, fingers dancing just above the curls at her center.

“Oh!” Brienne sighed and her head dropped back to his shoulder, pressing her center to his hand.

Going farther, Jaime guided his fingers to the nub at the top of her sex, just ghosting over the flesh to taunt her.

“Jaime!” she cried and gripped onto the stump on his right hand, which he was using to hold her body tight to his. Her head turned and she captured his lips with hers, pressing her tongue insistently against his lips until her relented and opened them, allowing her access.

As their tongues dueled, his fingers slowly circled her, teasing, she was writhing against him, her ass occasionally pressing against his painfully hard member, he was confident she was doing it at least partially on purpose. When they pulled away for a breath, Jaime nipped at her lower lip, holding it between his teeth a moment before releasing and kissing her again all the while his fingers continued to rub slowly, oh so slowly.

“I don’t…it’s so hot…Jaime, please…” she begged when he applied more pressure to her nub and simultaneously bit her earlobe.

“I know,” he whispered and tugged gently with his teeth before pulling his hand from her pants. Brienne made a desperate noise of disappointment until his hand traced her breastbone up and gently grasped her left breast again.

“Oh,” she breathed out then again, “oh, oh Jaime,” when he started kneading the flesh gently, fingertips just ghosting around her nipple.

When he finally tugged gently at the hard peak, Brienne’s whole body arched away from him as if shocked and she cried out. Jaime grinned into her neck and licked up the column slowly. With a little maneuvering, Jaime was able to reach over and cup her other breast.

“Jaime, I…”

“Tell me what you want…”

She turned fully in his arms and captured his lips with hers, pushing her tongue into his mouth. It was Jaime’s turn to groan and his hand fell away from her breast, gripping at her hip instead.

XXXX

Brienne’s entire body was heated, overly warm for the still cool room. Every place Jaime’s hand had touched felt like it was on fire. She didn’t know it could feel like this.

Their tongues dueled, each trying to assert dominance as Jaime’s hand moved from her hip toward her front again, fingers deftly pulling at the buttons even as they kissed.

Her fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulders.

Their movements were getting more frantic, needy, and her hands moved down, brushing against his manhood through his trousers.

Jaime groaned into her mouth and pulled away. “You have done that to me, Brienne.”

Pleased with herself, Brienne applied more pressed to his groin, wrapping her hands around the hardness through his trousers.

“Stop,” he hissed out and Brienne pulled back, concerned she had done something wrong.

Jaime soothed her concern immediately with a deep kiss. “It’s all right. I just…don’t want this to end too soon.”

Lips found her collarbone, tongue delving into the dip he found, and Jaime started guiding her backwards toward the bed. Just before she bumped into it he stopped their movement and pulled away, hands yanking desperately at her trousers, finally pulling the material down and past her hips to pool at her feet. Brienne kicked the material away.

Now she was naked before him, the flames from the fire warm against her exposed skin, she did not feel self-conscious as she’d expected. This was not the first time he’d seen her without clothes, even if the circumstances were vastly different.

With her eyes locked on his, Brienne crouched before him and slid pants down his legs, now she was eye level with his exposed manhood and tentatively touched the tip, running her finger around the head, curious. It was larger than she expected, and a thrill went through her.

“Brienne,” his voice was gravely. “You need to stop that.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do I now?” she asked while standing, her hand gripping him at the base then moving up before releasing him. Jaime moaned and his eyes closed, Brienne smiled.

Brienne was nothing if a fast learner and she pressed her body against his, kissing the column of his throat, nipping gently at the skin.

That seemed to light something afire in Jaime because he pushed her backward the last little bit needed and she fell gracelessly onto the bed at an angle, head near the pillows, legs dangling off the edge.

He was on her in an instant, hovering above her body, lips kissing between her breasts, then the side of one before capturing her nipple, licking it.

A shot of pleasure tore through her and Brienne’s hands went to his head, holding him firmly at her breast as he sucked and licked, moving between them at a frantic pace. The sensation was incredible and when he blew gently on one she cried out with the pleasure that tore through her.

“Jaime, Jaime, Jaime…” she called out and her fingers tightened in his hair.

“Beautiful,” he was muttering, now dropping kissing on her abdomen, up her sternum, on the side of each breast, laving his tongue into her collarbone before kissing her again, all the while keeping his body aloft from hers.

“Jaime,” she moaned. “I need…you.”

He fell onto the bed next to her on his side, fingers of his left hand tracing a pattern under her breasts.

“And you’ll have me. But first…”

Frustrated she whined, “But first?”

His hand moved down her torso, fingers dipping into the blonde curls above her sex again but this time with more pressure, his lips kissing her neck, then the flesh of her breast before pulling her nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling in time with his fingers.

Brienne squirmed under him from the fiery sensation running down her back and to her core, she swore she could feel wetness between her thighs and moaned.

When his fingers dipped lower, teasing at her entrance Brienne moaned with pleasure and need. More, she needed more. What though Brienne didn’t know. This was new to her.

“Good girl,” he said while lifting his head and pulling the other nipple into his mouth, sucking and laving at it like a starving man. “You make wonderful noises.”

His hand was gently pushing her thighs apart and she complied, letting them fall away as his finger pressed into her, seemingly testing.

“So very wet, love,” he whispered into her neck and licked.

Brienne made a high, keening noise and writhed under him, the sensation was…incredible and then he started pumping the finger in and out, and she was both relieved and wanton at the same time. He could do whatever he wanted to her in that moment, she was so desperate to have him.

“Oh, Gods,” she called out when he pressed a second finger in with the first and there was a funny, tight feeling coiling in her lower body. “I…I…”

“Trust me?” he asked and kissed her again, Brienne nodded.

“Always and forever.”

Jaime slid down the bed, kneeling on the floor, settling between her legs, his arms spreading them father apart.

“Jaime…” she sighed, she knew what he intended, had heard men speak of this act.

His tongue flicked out at that spot under her curls and she all but jumped off the bed. Jaime laughed lightly and pressed his right forearm across her belly, holding her steady. Again, he flicked his tongue against her and Brienne relaxed into him, eyes closed tight, moaning, fingers finding purchase in the furs beneath her.

Jaime continued the assault on her nub, flicking at varying speeds, all the while leaving his fingers steady inside her. Brienne was lost in sensations she didn’t know possible and nearly cried in relief when he circled the nub that was causing such pleasure with his lips and starting sucking while moving his fingers within her slowly.

The feeling in her back and belly seemed to expand then contract with his actions and Brienne squirmed as much as she could even with his arm holding her tight, pressing her hips toward him.

Instinctually her hands flew to his head, grasping the hair and holding him steady in place, Jaime groaned into her sex and did…something she would never be able to describe but caused the feeling in her to explode out and she screamed his name while partially sitting up, clawing at his arms to steady herself as the feeling ebbed and she fell back to the bed, sweaty and sated but also still wanting.

“What…” she managed to get out as he pulled his fingers from her, kissing her belly as he did so.

“That’s just the first course, love.”

She was panting, still squirming, still _needy_ , as he moved up her body again, lips kissing anything they could find.

Carefully he guided her legs fully onto the bed and used one knee to open them again.

For just a moment he held above her, eyes locked to hers. Then a thought occurred to him.

“Is there moon tea here?” It was nearly his worst fear, putting a babe in her belly even as they prepared to fight the Night King, he couldn’t risk it. Jaime would stop right at this moment if need be, his fear was so great. There were so many ways to pleasure her besides this if necessary.

“There is, I’ve heard women speak of it often.”

“Good, just to be safe I will not spill in you either.”

Brienne nodded and reached up, kissing him. “Please, Jaime…”

Jaime kissed her back and teased himself at her entrance, she was still wet and very ready.

Gently he pressed into her, careful to go slowly allowing her time to adjust, it was all but killing him to do so, he desperately wanted to go faster, harder, make her scream his name again.

Brienne had stiffened at the initial breeching of her sex but relaxed as he moved in her slowly, enjoying the pleasurable feeling that washed over her. It was different than before, but no less satisfying.

Once he’d filled her, Jaime paused and Brienne moved, pressing her hips to his, desperate for him to just _move._

And suddenly he was, faster than she anticipated and for a moment she just lay there, letting him have his way with her, finger digging into the furs under her, his hand and stump pressed to the bed at her head, she turned her head and kissed his wrist.

It startled him enough Jaime paused his movements and stared at her. “Move with me, Brienne,” he demanded and started again, this time slower so she could match his pace, pressing her hips to his when he came down into her.

“By the Gods,” she hissed and wrapped one arm around his shoulders, fingers digging hard into the flesh of his back. Pleasure was coiling low in her belly and each frantic thrust brought her closer to the edge. A particularly hard one finally pushed her over the edge, the feeling exploding through her and she cried out, “I…oh…Jaime!”

“Brienne,” he hissed and continued to thrust into her several more time before pulling out and spilling himself on her belly before falling to the bed next to her.

She was sweaty and finally sated, Jaime lying next to her, his lips kissing her shoulder.

“I didn’t know,” she started and stopped, unsure how to express in words what it had felt like.

“I understand,” he whispered and got up, kissing her again as he moved over her and off the bed. Pod had thoughtfully left a bowl of water on the small table and he dipped a towel in it before returning to the bed and carefully wiping himself off her.

The nights were far too brutally cold to sleep naked as much as he wanted to so they both redressed in their underclothes before slipping under the heavy furs, facing each other, Jaime’s left hand smoothing down her arm.

“When this war is over, assuming we survive, I go where you go, Lady Brienne,” he said.

Brienne was shocked, she hadn’t thought much past the oncoming war and certainly had not pictured any kind of future, it felt too dangerous to do so.

“What? Why would you-“

“Because I love you and I’m done with fighting, I’m too old for this anymore. I don’t _want_ to do this anymore. Enough is enough.”

“But what of the Queen? And your Lands? Casterly Rock?”

“I’ve spoken to Daenerys and made my feeling quite clear. Casterly Rock means nothing to me anymore, it’s a shell of a castle that holds nothing but memories, many of which I would prefer to forget. Tyrion can have it. Daenerys can give it to Grey Worm or Mormont or whoever she damn well pleases. _I go where you go._ ”

“If I choose to stay with the Queen?”

He shrugged then smiled slightly. “You really aren’t getting it, are you wench? You are stuck with me now, forever and always. Tarth, Kings Landing, Winterfell, Beyond the Wall, Braavos, Essos.” He paused. “All right, maybe not Beyond the Wall, might have to draw a line there.”

Brienne smiled, and a warm feeling spread across her chest, there was a future she could have, suddenly winning this war became far more critical. She curled up closer to him.

“I love you also, Jaime Lannister. And I promise not Beyond the Wall.”

“Oh, thank the Gods,” he said and kissed the top of her head.

Sleep quickly overcame them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I seriously re-wrote this chapter like...3 times, I hope you like it! Reviews are love!  
> One more chapter, gotta see Tyrion!


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